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Can I use my tongue and tell you a story?
Introduce the character of soft sucks
Create a setting of long, slow tongue swirls
Cause a conflict between your spasms and shudders
Build a plot of varied paced tongue rotations around your nib
Establish a theme of unhurried, focused pleasures
Can I use my tongue and tell you a story?

She is Africa.
Legs longer than the Nile.
The soil of her soul is where minerals are found.
Diamonds of calm.
Gold pieces of wisdom.
I am of her earth and long to be inside her earth.
She feeds me.
Offers my roots strength.
She models.
This universe is her catwalk.
I watch her strut. No. glide.
Slient.
Floats on melanin.
She is the new black.
She is the old black.
Her spirit aligns me.
I want to make love to her chakras.
I want to slide into her red.
Glide into her orange hue.
Taste it.
Converse with her yellow.
Busk in its glow.
Kiss her green.
Heal it with the lips of my nurturing.
Caress her blue.
Touch it. Feel its pulse. Its vibration.
Open the legs of her purple.
Go deep inside her.
Touch her roof. Her crown.
Give her long strokes until she orgasms white light.

She wears an ankh on her chest.
She’s a Nubian superwoman.
Melanin is the source of her super powers.
Her third eye gazes into my penial gland.
Sapiosexual seductive allure.
Lips of African coco-mango-brown sugar.
And lips of black rose-ebony-honey-yoni goodness.
I want to kiss both.
Taste her and taste her.
Lord forgive me for I want to be baptised in the wetness of her intellect. Slide deep inside her chakras.
Cause her third eye to roll backwards. Give her a mindgasm.
She wears the eye of Horus on her arm. Inked.
Egyptian goddess wearing Egyptian Goddess symbol.
Her figure is pyramid architecture design.
A wonder of this world.
Not of this world.
She makes my mind erect.
Causes my body to think.

#RandomLines
Our love, our sex is a piece of coal.
Often seen as harsh, devoid of beauty. When heated, when burnt, it causes pollution, clouds that cause society to choke. It is debated upon, discussed with vile detest. seen as no longer valid in this modern world.

I see it as coal too…
It is a symbol of blackness. It’s buried deep. It’s of this earth. Comes from its core. It is aged. Was here before man – will exist after mankind. It is nature’s fuel. Organic. A rock that is solid. Pure. A substance so unique when pressed down, when placed under the pressure of the world it transforms and becomes a diamond. becomes precious, priceless, sort after by all.

Like this:

I love how when you moan it progressively gets deeper
How it falls down your body
Begins as a hollow frequency echoing in your throat
Gains weight
Becomes heavy
The gravity of pleasure
Drags it down into your lungs
Balloons them
Inflates them until they boom Continue reading →